What You Make of It
by Broken Antler in Winter
Summary: The Holiday Season is here, but all the carols and bells can't make things worthwhile if there's no family. After all, Christmas is what you make of it...Two stories in one: Wally's gift to Artemis and Batfamily reconciliation. Four-Part, Spitfire, Set During Time-Skip. T for language.
1. A Reason to Celebrate

**What You Make Of It**

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_"Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and good will, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas."  
-Calvin Coolidge_

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**Part 1: A Reason to Celebrate**

The sounds of Bing Crosby singing a deep, melodious 'It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas' blared over their cozy apartment's radio as Wally continued to pester Artemis for answers, giving him a deep sense of nostalgia and warmth. "I don't celebrate Christmas, it's an idiotic holiday," Artemis commented nonchalantly, licking the tip of her forefinger and flipping to the next page of her magazine. Wally, on the other hand, was scandalized. "Who cares about a fat and obviously drunken man sneaking into your house and stealing food?"

Wally gasped dramatically at his girlfriend. "Babe, Christmas is nothing like that! Christmas is a time for giving, a time for family, and a time for celebrating the happiness and joy shared." Each word was echoed by the slow voice from the radio.

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, _

_Everywhere you go. _

_Take a look in the five and ten, _

_Glistening once again, _

_With candy canes and silver lanes aglow. _

Artemis abruptly turned off the radio, irritably glaring at him."Where'd you get that line, 'Wallman', Frosty the Snowman?" It was a well established fact that Artemis was not one for celebrating Christmas, with her sarcastic response to everything related to the holiday season, and Wally's pleading face was changing absolutely nothing.

Scowling in a rather immature way, Wally grumbled into his cushion, "Where'd you get your lines? How the Grinch Stole Christmas? It's our first Christmas in the last three years that hasn't been interrupted by missions, our first Christmas as civilians, it should be something special."

"Come on, Wally, do you think there really is something for me to celebrate at Christmas? Mom's not one for 'Western' holidays, and it isn't like Cheshire is going to pop by for a visit! So, if you please, leave me to snarl in peace!"

Taking a large bite out of his fruit cake, Wally then asked, "Well, what _do _you celebrate?"

In mock contemplation, Artemis tapped her chin slowly, wondering aloud, "As someone who used to go around fighting supervillains on a daily basis, what could I celebrate? Oh yes, how about the fact that _I've survived another year? _What else could we possibly celebrate, except maybe the fact that M'gann can cook now?"

"You know, family, friends, the fact that we're together and not trying to kill each other?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow in amusement, eyes leaving her page as she threw the magazine behind her. "Babe, trying to kill each other is half of what makes this relationship fun."

"But, seriously, Arty," Wally swung his arm around Artemis, "What good boyfriend doesn't get you something for Christmas? You have to celebrate something during the holiday season! Come on, you don't need to hold on to the tough-girl act, we've already seen you kick butt enough."

"If you have to _know_," she snarled back, irritated, "And if you don't, please interrupt me because, as you know, _I do not like sharing the less comforting personal information. _If you have to know, I used to celebrate St. Nicholas Day back before..." Back before her family went into shambles went unsaid. Scrutinizing her, Wally sighed, thinking about the vibrant and verily violent picture of Artemis' family painted by the clues she shared with him, and only him.

It wasn't as if his own dad was unicorns and rainbows either. Rudolph West was a violent man, but at least Wally managed to find the safe haven of his uncle's home in Central City. Possibly, it was one thing the two of them shared in common, finding new families after the old ones were broken beyond repair.

Deciding instantly to change the atmosphere, he asked, "What's St. Nicholas Day?"

"Go ask Nightwing, or Superboy. I'm neither a bat-trained genius nor a Kryptonian dictionary."

"You know how Nightwing is, he'd rather give me a hard time finding things and cackle creepily in the background than actually help."

"No, actually, I _don't _know. When's the last time we've seen him? Oh yeah, _three months. _God, Wally, just because we're quitting the business doesn't mean you have to cut all ties. You have to stop ignoring your _best friend_. We've already made our decision, he's not going to complain like a lousy toddler because we choose to leave. After all, it's been only six months for him solo, you're supposed to be there." It was a common argument. Sometimes it was about Wally cutting off contact with Nightwing, at other times it was his overt hostility towards anyone not in civvies.

"He was the one who was against us leaving!" Wally replied angrily.

"You're the older brother in this relationship! What about your best friends thing, huh? And he needs _someone's _support right now. M'gann's too caught up with Gar, Conner isn't _prepared _for this kind of stuff, Zatanna and Raquel don't _know him well enough_, and do you think Roy will do anything?" Artemis' words were accusing, her Spitfire mode.

"First of all, you know why we left. It wasn't just the danger, I'm not _fast enough_- wait, Artemis, babe, stop changing the subject, it's not exactly the type of thing to talk about around Christmas! What's St. Nicholas Day? You aren't going actually make me have to _learn _what that holiday's about, are you? 'Cause that hurts, that really hurts." When Artemis' face did not change, he pouted a genuine pout. "Spoilsport, just give me a rundown, will you?"

"Fine, but only if you start reconnecting with your friends! You haven't even _talked _to Conner for ages." Artemis relented.

"Why are you so cruel?"

A smug smirk attached itself on to Artemis' face. "Hey, it's what you said to me when you asked me to come with you. I'm your Spitfire, not supposed to let you get away with anything."

Wally looked up at the ceiling, sighing, "Well, at least you're a good cook."

Her smirk was extremely suggestive, but definitely her norm. "That's not the only part of me you find good, babe."

Nodding, Wally acquiesced, grinning wolfishly. "So, what's St. Nicholas Day?"

"St. Nicholas was a saint from the Middle Ages, the sort of wealthy philanthropist guy who went around helping the poor. He was also a priest, and made miracles happen, etcetera, etcetera. He'd leave gold in people's houses, and all that jazz. By the way, he's the guy your beloved Santa the Fat is based on. Anyways, St. Nicholas Day was made to celebrate gift-giving and helping the poor, it was on the sixth this year. Me and Jade used to go around helping the kids in Crime Alley.

"So, why did you celebrate St. Nicholas Day?" Wally was genuinely interested in what Artemis was saying, for once. The holiday seemed a great deal more idealistic than the normally sedated hopes characteristic of the Crock and Nguyen family. The idealistic notions capitalized by the holiday seemed the type of thing that the Allens would do.

Sighing, Artemis shrugged. "Jade had a friend from Serbia who celebrated St. Nicholas day. He was a nice guy, Terry McGinnis, gave to the people around him, but he got caught up in some gang...always too hotheaded, like Conner. Not sure where he is now, but it's all the same with all of those childhood friends from _good old_ Gotham." It was a somber note on which she ended.

Continuing on, Artemis said, "A lot of countries in Europe that haven't been _commercialized _at this time of year would celebrate it for gifts instead of Christmas. Because Christmas is a religious holiday. _Religious._"

"Ah...but Artemis, Christmas is an awesome excuse to enjoy Aunt Iris' amazing pot roast, because I am starving right now. And to be honest, it is many times better than yours. She's a professional."

Artemis slowly turned her head. "The day you stop telling me you're starving is the day that the world ends. And, what? You think your aunt's cooking is better than mine? You _really _think so..." A mischievous glint got into her eyes. "Give me a reason _not_ to get my old stuff and chase your speedster butt down with it."

"Come on, don't do this!" By then, Wally was edging away from his now feral-looking girlfriend.

Artemis sighed tiredly. "It's been a long year, Wally...with Tula gone, Robin transitioning, Kal joining his father...I feel worn out, but useless. What can we do if we're not heroes?"

Furrowing his brows, Wally turned to Artemis with concern. "Are you backing out of this now? You've made your decision, right? You were all for this when we got into the university..."

"I'd never back out," she lashed out, "That's not the way people from my family work! I'm just lacking a purpose. Don't you get it? You have your future all figured out. Go interning in Star Labs after graduation, but I'm still drifting. I was _born _to fight. Grew up for fighting. It was my _choice. _Now that I've left that place, what's next? Maybe I'll go work for a diner!"

"So...you mean this isn't good enough for you?" For all the motormouth he was, Wally did not understand what she was trying explain.

"No. This life is wonderful, we can work, for sure, but there isn't that sword hanging above my head. We've got stability and we can do whatever the hell we want. But it isn't what I'm used to, and by St. Nicholas Day last year I could give so much. This year, all I can give is some advice for not failing Vietnamese Lit or French. Just that, this life is great. But it hasn't been a good year for the Team, and we've done nothing to help."

Wally probed his own mind, and realized he felt the same way sometimes. They both were thrust into a life where helping others was the philosophy. Now everything was different. They both wanted this quiet, stable life, but also the thrill and ability to somehow _help_ the world. Drawing away from the old life was _easy, _save for an infuriated argument with Dick about the choice, now they had to live with the decision. Life was good, yet they couldn't do something worthwhile.

"What do you really want for your Christmas to be great?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe a reason to celebrate? Ugh, I'm late for class." Wally's classes were cancelled that morning due to the professor being sick, but Artemis had to go to her's nonetheless.

As she picked up her bag and left their humble apartment in Palo Alto, Wally turned on the radio once again, smiling widely. "A reason to celebrate, huh? Maybe I could just make that happen." Didn't Artemis say that she used to go around helping the kids in Crime Alley? They could do something, help someone. It would take the season beyond the superficial gift-wrap.

_But the prettiest sight to see, _

_Is the holly that will be, _

_On your own front door. _

_Surely it's Christmas, _

_Once more..._

"I'm sure of it. Now I just have to find a reason for Artemis to celebrate." He knew exactly where to get help. However, the communicator in his hand seemed cold and daunting as he held it in his hand. Their last falling-out wasn't quite as kind as he wished it to be. Nevertheless, he dialed the code, and waited for a voice on the other side.

Hopefully, just hopefully, they would be able to work past differences so that Wally could get the gift ready. He loved Artemis with all his heart, after all, she was his Spitfire. So he had to make this present absolutely perfect.

"Hey, Nightwing...?"

Wally could practically _hear_ Nightwing's brow furrow as the response came, tinged not lightly with disbelief. Wally had thought their friendship could easily outlast the argument, though the amount of doubt from the other side whittled away some of the confidence left behind from the last, heated argument. "Wally? Why are you calling me? And through the comm. links?" There was something there, hope?

"Artemis...she's convinced me on a point. Shouldn't let old friendships die because of arguments, right? Isn't like we haven't had our differences before." A soft cackle came from the other side. A little amused?

"You've got yourself a catch there, can't believe you guys didn't see it coming from the very beginning!" The sounds were filled with static and there seemed to be wind on the other side. Nightwing was probably indulging in his routine of 'flying' during patrol.

There wasn't anything that needed to be said between the two. The understanding of two equally brilliant children, when they met, was the bond that tied them together. All they needed was that reminder that though the world was changing, they were fundamentally the same people in spirit and soul.

Suddenly, a sound of a couple of gunshots was heard from the other side.

"Woah, Nightwing? What's up on the other end?"

The voice on the other side laughed quietly. "Just some ugly shooting the boxes to see if there are any stowaways. I'm checking on a shipment of armor-piercing bullets. They've been getting pesky in the Haven, and I don't want them to get around. It'd be a disaster-"

Wally blanched. "Extremely heavy on the dis," he tried, borrowing Dick's favorite pessimistic statement. It wasn't every day something pessimistic would come from the former Robin, but he lived in Gotham, and moved to _Bludhaven. _

Fatalism was, of course, an occupational hazard of a hero.

Glancing at the group photo of the Team in their earliest days framed on his bookshelf, Wally forged on. "Do you need any help? Just because I'm retired doesn't mean I won't help my best friend."

"No, you don't need to get out. Things are quiet right now. The snow is horrible though, and if you slip and crash into a car, Artemis will never let me hear the end of it. It's just a normal bust, nothing special. So, you didn't just call to ask me about my work, or to make up. You have an ulterior motive. And before you say anything, I used a turbing method called, _logic!"_

Wally ran his hand through his hair, nervously rubbing his teeth against eachother. He took a cookie, M'gann's housewarming present, from his stash, wolfing it down and continuing with renewed confidence (it was the food, definitely the food). "Come on, why do you think I have to have an ulterior motive?"

Giving a hiss reminescent of Robin's many reprimands back before everything complicated into a mess, Nightwing said, voice crackling through the snowed reception, "Try me."

"Okay, okay, okay! Just...Artemis-is-kind-of-unhappy-and-it's-Christmas-so-she-shouldn't-and-I-wanted-to-get-her-something-special-and-can-you-tell-me-about-Crime-Alley?" The words spilled out before he could stop them, and crumbs spilled all over his textbook. Deciding to quit on his studies, Wally turned on the TV, with the theme of 'Frosty the Snowman' playing from the box.

_A jolly, happy soul, _

_With a corncob pipe and a button nose, _

_And two eyes made out of coal. _

_Frosty, the snowman, is a fairytale they say, _

_He was made of snow, but the children know, _

_He came to life one day. _

Hesitantly, Nightwing spoke. "Is that..._Frosty_?"

"Yeah..."

"How does Crime Alley possibly relate to a holiday based on _that_? You'd have better luck asking me to get you an imitation of Mr. Freeze's gun. And _no, _I do _not _have a copy of Freeze's gun. Don't even think about asking."

Wally scowled. "Why do you think I'm going to ask? All I wanted to ask was about how many people there are in Crime Alley, and the overall place. Oh, and the people that Artemis used to know from there, you can do that right? Artemis...she told me she had nothing during the holday season to celebrate, but I'm going to give her one. I _love _her, but I can't do enough for her. This will probably be my big statement." Grinning, Wally continued, "I'm not gonna tell you why I need Crime Alley, though."

"I don't expect you to." Wally thought he heard a chuckle through the static. "It's a magical time of year, right? I always thought Christmas was like that. Even the year _it _happened, because when Christmas passed and the New Year was almost there, something gave me a reason to celebrate again. You're looking for that reason for Artemis, right?"

Once again surprised at his friend's perception, he replied, "How do you know that? Do you have telepathy or something? Because as much as it would feel safer not to think so, I'm pretty sure you have telepathy."

"Yeah...I'll have the files over by tomorrow night. Hmm...it's the most wonderful time of the year, that's right, but it isn't exactly because of Christmas itself. After all, it's just a holiday full of toys and bad singing."

Shrugging, Wally replied, "Don't forget the food. Never forget the food."

"Because obviously take-out is such a whelming dinner. And Police Academy's the devil, not going to get too much extravagances this week. Hey, if the extra in extravagance makes the word about overconsumption, can vagance be just normal consumption? What about undervagance?"

"Before I hang up," mentioned Wally offhandedly, "Could you tell me one thing? Since we are friends and never going to fight ever again?"

"You sound stupidly childish," Nightwing was whispering now into the , from what it seemed, "But sure."

"What was the thing that made Christmas magical? I know everything about you, Nightwing, _everything. _Could you cast me a line or something?" Wally sat up straight, bracing for the impact of the next words that might or might not sting.

"Christmas that year wasn't much to celebrate. I never put much on my belief of a guy running around in a red suit, it was always a religious holiday for the old place. Then everything came down...you know where I went next...and I remembered this legend about St. Nicholas, the guy Santa is based on. He gave to the poor and unfortunate, but at the time I thought it was just some wishful thinking, and dismissed the thought." Dick's breath hitched, before he carried on. "Then the wardship was finalized. I always believed it was a Christmas miracle."

Momentarily, Wally was stunned, before regaining his composure and grinning broadly. "Christmas miracle, huh? While we're making all these miracles happen left and right, have you thought about maybe-well-I-dunno-how's-about how's about trying to make it a full miracle by going back to Gotham?"

There was silence on the other side for a full minute, before Nightwing replied slowly, "No." Wally winced.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he sighed. "Dick." Secret identities over the radio? Wally _shouldn't _have said that. "You're helping me, so let me help you. He's your-dad-and-don't-interrupt-me-because-I-mean-he's-your-dad-in-the-emotional-sense-and-you-aren't-allowed-to-deny-it-and-Jason-isn't-your-replacement-"

"No." Curt, Nightwing was going into bat-mode. Though Wally heard it enough times to develop an immunity to it, he still flinched at the Voice.

"I'm not saying you have to do something. Dick," Wally used the civilian name again, civilian life was really conforming him, "It's just that Bruce is the one you want to be proud of you. It could be your own Christmas miracle! Bats was always nicest to you, he was just being overprotective!"

Just as Wally finished his impromptu speech, a sound of a hail of gunshots rang from the . After a 30 second lull, Nightwing whispered, "I'm going in."

Smirking at the memory of his own past fights, nostalgic but determined to leave the life behind, Wally turned off the TV and told his friend earnestly, "Good luck. Think about it."

"I will." The connection was severed, and Wally stood up. Doing a quick run of 100 laps around apartment building and stretching, Wally walked back in, realizing how stiff his muscles were. "Not fast enough still, huh?" he asked himself, voice laced with bitterness despite the reconciliation and resolution just seconds before. It didn't matter, though, when he imagined Artemis' upcoming surprise. It would be _priceless. _

"Oh," Wally candidly admitted to himself for the first time, "I think I'm _really _in love."

* * *

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..._


	2. Twas Love, Naturally

**What You Make of It**

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_"My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?"  
__-Bob Hope_

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**Part 2: Twas Love, Naturally**

As Artemis left for her class, she grabbed a handful of mud and formed it in her hands, feeling the intense desire to throw it at _something, _anything. Even without the snow she saw every year in Gotham, Christmas always inspired a type of rage, resentment, and wrath that, when compared to her daily irritability, was similar to comparing a nuclear bomb to a simple grenade. The only logical conclusion was that it was a deeply ingrained jealously for those people who could celebrate so easily.

Carollers were not a common sight in Gotham, though in Palo Alto, one could find groups on every street corner at Christmas, even with the heavy downpour.

_Have a holly, jolly Christmas, _

_It's the best time of the year. _

_Oh by golly, have a holly jolly, _

_Christmas, this year!_

Aiming accurately and allowing it to hit the very window of the International Relations course she was taking, it took her five seconds to realize that she was only reminding herself of the old days, when death was around every corner, and...

She didn't feel so damn helpless!

Playing hero didn't seem like the life for her, though still it was something. She could repent for some sins committed before she even knew what a sin was, and she could do something to make sure that the world was better, kinder. In the end, she left it all behind, and the only thing left was watching the TV as the news showed a world going to the ditches. There must have been something out there in the wide world that she would be able to do, something that would take away a little bit of the suffering.

And Wally thought she wasn't an idealist.

"Morning, Artemis," Atlee waved at her. Atlee was a girl who worked the same part-time shift in the small coffee store as she did, a rather ebullient personality, full of interest in the world around her and with an affinity for juggling rocks. Atlee passed her bye and Artemis walked by more and more people on the campus.

Even though the Team would always be her family, she felt a sense of contentment with the people she knew in Palo Alto. From a stylish classmate called Cheyenne to Sandra Hawke's irritating son Connor, they all grew on her.

That lecture was attended to with much more attention than the others she frequented, when she reminded herself why she was learning. Didn't knowledge give power? After all, even with brute force ruling so much of her life, she recognized how Batman, leader of the JLA, relied not on only force, but an understanding of his enemies and a sharp intellect too. Otherwise, she repeated to herself, "This is for Mom. This is for Wally. This is for myself."

Brain over brawn was how Deathstroke got her dad's position in the Shadows, after all.

Returning to their humble abode exhausted with the day's extensive lessons and rather resentful at the fact that Wally had none that day, Artemis' temper was not easily mitigated. She stormed through the door with the feeling of hurricane Katrina, and slammed the door with equal fervor.

Wally was writing something down, it was something like a graph. As soon as he heard Artemis, he instantly hid it, most likely in Central City. Grinning stupidly, her idiot greeted her, "Hi, Artemis, how was class?"

"Like class, that is to say, boring."

"Oh, I guess it's just a plain, boring day then," Wally commented offhandedly, turning off the radio as she kicked off her boots. Throwing her jacket and bag on the couch, she glared at Wally for a moment, taking in the barely concealed effervescence on his vibrating face.

It was another one of those days. "Wally, what are you hiding?" Unlike the many other times Artemis noticed Wally's deception, he did not look guilty at all, instead smiling all the wider. Artemis' glare deepened. That usually did not bode well for anyone within walking distance of him.

"Oh, come on, babe," Wally backed up when he saw the twitching in Artemis' left eye, a definite sign of distaste, "It's a present, for you! Just wait until Christmas!"

Artemis frowned, and slumped herself on to the sofa, turning on the TV. "You better..."

Smiling slyly, Wally slid away, and the subject was not broached again until a very special day.

The air of mystery and secrecy of the weeks leading up to Christmas was, to be honest, _pissing Artemis_ _off. _As someone who could already stand the insufferable former speedster, she prided herself on the fact that she was capable of resisting the urge to, quote unquote, "Punch Baywatch in his prissy little face." Of course, the element of intrigue and romance added to the relationship was definitely a factor to consider.

But sometimes...

Then again, she knew what she was signing up with the moment Wally kissed her that New Year's. The very thought of it sent an adrenaline rush through her veins, it was electrifying, fantastic, and perfect. It just didn't bode well for her anti-sentimentality image. Also, she was beginning to act like Roy.

Were the only two paths for an archer or former archer to take perpetual angsting or Ollie? It wasn't as if she didn't care for the two, it was just the fact that they acted really stupid, all the time. Where was that place Donna came from again, Paradise Island? Where there were no men?

Ponderings aside, Artemis understood exactly what living with Wallace Rudolph West entailed, including the stupidity, growling stomach, and corny music. By then, she and Bing Crosby were no longer sworn enemies, instead deciding on a begrudging truce. The music didn't drive her to Arkham Asylum, and she didn't smash anything fragile.

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

_With the kids jingle-belling,_

_And everyone telling you,_

_Be of good cheer!_

_It's the most wonderful time of the_ year.

The one compromise didn't mean that Artemis was buying into Wally's whole wide-eyed love for the lovely little magical miracles of Christmas. Miracles never happened spontaneously in the real world, it happened through effort and perseverance, sacrifices and a ludicrous amount of luck.

"It's Christmas morning, babe, don't you want to know your present?" Wally's voice rang above the deep Christmas tunes, shaking Artemis out of her half-slumbering reverie. "It's already six o'clock in the morning, I have to show you the present before Aunt Iris gets Barry to force his way through the doors and take us to the dinner." Artemis turned over at the already dressed Wally, and raised a sleepy eyebrow. Giving her a quick kiss, he pulled her out of the blankets.

"Oh, so that gift you've been hinting at but still decided not to reveal is finally worthy of my humble presence?" Artemis growled playfully.

"Come on, Artemis, it isn't just some ordinary gift. We're going on a little couple's escapade." Mischievously grinning, Wally pulled Artemis out of her blankets. As she dressed and Wally raided the kitchen, Artemis stumbled over an old photo album, from back before Mom got arrested and broke her back.

"Hey, Wally?" she called over her shoulder, "Where'd you get this?"

"Oh, that!" Wally said, food still in his mouth, "I got it from Paula, she said something about how there are tons of embarrassing photos inside, and I wanted for the memories to be in the new place. Hurry up, babe, you are going to love your present." Artemis grabbed a bag, continuing to flip through her album. The pictures were all from an easier time, childhood, when everything was simple as the black and white of a checkerboard. Things weren't exactly _ideal,_ but they were easier. Less conflict within a person. She wanted to say that life was easier after they quit the Team, nevertheless the past was _just so..._It was childhood, and nothing could bring that back.

There were pictures in there that Batman would definitely not approve of, pictures of the Team juxtaposed to photos of herself in her Gotham Academy uniform, trying in vain to make the skirt go down.

Beside those were pictures of Barbara, Bette, Dick, and Artemis, standing around in casual wear. In Dick's cramped and neat handwriting were the words, 'We'll laugh about this someday, crock." After that was pages and pages of the Team hanging out in civvies, as over time, the amount of people increased exponentially, to include Wonder Girl, Batgirl, Guardian, and so many more.

It was times like these that made her question leaving the Team, leaving her life behind. Maybe she wasn't _ready _for the changes ahead of her. What did the New Year bring except for regrets and remorse?

Out of nowhere, Wally hoisted her into the air, running out the door without even bothering to lock it. The wind blew her hair out of place, though Artemis didn't mind. The same feeling of flying on a grappling arrow swam through her veins as she soaked in the adrenaline rush. By then, Artemis already knew how to recognize things moving at super-speed, and it was certainly familiar. However, she didn't notice anything in particular, with the snow on her face a refreshing break from the mundanity of Christmas.

"Baywatch," she muttered, "This better be worth it." Soon, Wally slowed to a walk by an alley, putting Artemis down and leading her down a cracked cement pathway. "Hey, isn't this-?"

"Don't question it, just keep walking," Wally grinned fiercely.

"For such a motormouth, you're surprisingly good at putting a foot in your mouth," Artemis grumbled, still trying to figure out what the 'gift' was going to be. Considering it was _Wallace West_, it was probably something sufficiently corny though somehow endearing. As Mrs. Allen had described it, "The intricacies of a relationship with a speedster...mark my words, Artemis, you're going to love it even though you _know _you're supposed to hate it."

Snorting, Wally replied, holding her hand tightly, "Of course. How else do you think I was able to keep Dick's identity secret for so long? Bats don't _actually _have amnesia-rays, you know."

"Really? I remember a time when _you _were the one who spilled the ID when Dick had cold feet," snickered Artemis none-too-ladylike. The roads, this was Crime Alley, right?

"How did I know that he didn't want Batgirl to know?" Wally pouted, distracting Artemis from recognizing the place.

"Because he probably told you!"

"No he didn't-oh wait, yeah he did. But it was a need-to-know situation, even Bats admitted that!" The roads winded down, trash bins and newspapers everywhere. There were bloodstains on the walls of the decrepit apartments, and...

"Wait...holy shit, this is...you took me to? Crime Alley? This was where me, Terry, and Jade used to do St. Nicholas Day! How'd you- what- tell me what the heck is happening right now!" Artemis was fully gaping at the scene before her, because it was _absolutely perfect. _

All the children living in Crime Alley, some sullen while others buoyant, sat in a set-up of plastic tables and chairs, meanwhile the tables were decked to the top with decorations, food, and a great banner saying, "Happy Belated St. Nicholas Day!" There were adults there too, and every single one of them was _smiling. _They needed a reason to do that. Crime Alley didn't _do smiles. _

"Most of them children," Wally whispered, oddly quiet and somber, "Set up trust funds, and there's a new Wayne Foundation Charity for Crime Alley. Merry Christmas?"

Seeing his girlfriend rendered speechless, Wally gestured towards the crowd of at least three dozen people, chatting amiably in a scene so uncharacteristic of Gotham City. "Well, babe, they're all waiting for you."

"How-how the hell did you afford this? I know your job doesn't pay enough!" Wally worked a part-time shift as a delivery boy for a pizza place, and he _always _managed to get the pizzas there on time, with the added benefit of a monstrous tip. That was, however, still a _part-time _and _low-wage _job, it would be insane to spend all his savings on a single occasion. It was an immense gesture, and Artemis couldn't possibly fathom what it meant.

Wally shrugged, amused at her astonishment. "Well, Dick's been wanting to do something like this for ages, I was just his errand boy. Anyways, you _know _who taught him investment. You can't get any better than Mr. Fox. He didn't want all the money to gather dust, so when I needed help, he offered it up, with the excuse that he was busy with some weapons bust, which he finished, so I don't know why he isn't here, but wait, nope, he's been tracking Blockbuster's movements to Gotham. What best friends are for, huh? He even offered to _pay _me for it, like an _employee, _which is stupid since-"

Before Wally could go all-out in his ramblings, a redheaded twelve year old boy walked up, scanning Artemis in a gesture similar to weighing her threat level. "Your _boyfriend-_" he sneered at the word, "-forgot to mention me, the kid who convinced all the other Crime Alley kids not to beat the shit out of him, it took a lot of effort. You must be the great and infallible Artemis Crock. Jason Todd."

Finally regaining her composure, Artemis smirked. "Pleasure." Turning to Wally, or _her idiot_, as she reminded herself, she remarked dryly, "Well, what are you waiting for, Kid Mouth?"

Wally opened his mouth, winding his hand around Artemis' waist, but before he could get the words out, Jason interrupted petulantly with a disgusted face and a violent shove to Wally's stomach, muttering, "Sentimental saps."

Laughing, Artemis turned to her indignant boyfriend, saying, "I kind of like this kid."

As they sat down, a brunette seventeen year old was pushed to the front of the crowd, with a grateful, albeit defiant stare. Reading off the words written on the palm of her hand, the girl said loudly, "Hi, I'm Helena Bertinelli, and on behalf of the rest of the people here I'd like to thank you for the gifts you are giving us this holiday season." Then, walking up to Artemis, she hissed, "This doesn't mean we're charity cases. Treat us like ones, and you'll regret it."

Snickering, Artemis rasped back, "I share your sentiments, I know more about Crime Alley than you think. Let's let whatever this hostility is calm for a moment, I just want to eat."

The lunch was fantastic.

Left and right were people talking, eating, reminding her so much of the times she spent with Jade and Terry. Snow was falling the entire time, but everyone just continued eating calmly, a few kids letting their bowls fill with crisp snow and pouring juice into them. There were no luxuries, nothing except for full stomachs and promising futures, and for some reason, that was enough.

As the light faded and the time to leave neared, Artemis turned to Wally, a nostalgic half-smile etched on her features. "Well, you did it. All these kids...they would've ended up like Terry, but now they have a chance to..."

"Really live?" Helena suggested. Helena and Jason were both sitting at Wally and Artemis' table, giving dispassionate commentary every time there was an even slightly romantic moment. Even though, if in their shoes, Artemis would be doing the same, she was beginning to get a little annoyed.

"You don't get to see this often," Jason remarked, chewing on the end of his fork, "They're being nice to each other. Usually, they're poaching the other guy's food."

"It's amazing," replied Helena dryly, "To see that they aren't trying to beat the living crap out of each other. And it's amazing that you aren't starting a fight, Todd."

"Hey, Helena, aren't you supposed to be the mature one," Wally asked frantically, as he noticed Jason's eye twitch in a way far too reminiscent of Artemis' rages. "I'm sure Jason doesn't start too many fights. He's a nice kid, right Artemis?"

"Are you kidding me?" Skeptically, Artemis scanned Wally's expression for a hint of lying. Seeing that Wally was simply trying to appease the boy, she sighed, and humored him. "Yeah, Jason's a nice kid. The unicorns and rainbows type. I bet he goes around puking flowers and dancing on sunshine."

Stifling laughter, Helena glanced at Artemis, who kept a still poker face, and choked with her giggles. "I think Artemis is very correct. After all, Todd is a sissy!"

They slipped away when the sounds of shouting, screaming, hair-tugging, and fighting began.

Picking a secluded spot in an igloo built by the kids while they were waiting for Artemis, the two sat down, smiling at each other. "Well, babe, you did good there. I wonder who's going to come out on top. It'll be like watching Dick and Barbara's contests again, except with less of the romantic tension," Wally said, hugging Artemis closer to him. The warmth was inviting, and Artemis unconsciously moved towards it.

"Thanks for doing this all. You really gave me a reason to celebrate this year. Maybe we can make Christmas a tradition." The thanks was uncharacteristic, but Artemis realized, she had so much to be grateful for, all her moping seemed unnecessary. She had a clean apartment, a scholarship at Stanford, and an unclear future. But wasn't that all the fun? After all, she had Wally to walk the future through with her.

"For the Allens and the Wests, it's always been a tradition. This is your initiation ceremony."

"Please don't let this be another one of those Christmas songs," Artemis prayed aloud.

Pouting, Wally said with mock-disappointment, "But I've got some _really _good moves to go with 'White Christmas'! And you can't say you don't like the West family voice."

Rolling her eyes back, Artemis pecked Wally quickly, before asking the question that was really on her mind. "All of this work, all of this planning. How did you do it all? Is this what all of your disappearances were?" Their noses were touching, the snow on their skin only invigorating them.

"I got help setting everything up. A lot of Wayne Foundation people came along, because apparently, Dick's still connected to Wayne Enterprises, and he managed to tip the cards this way for the Crime Alley kids, since there never was any charity or trust fund for them. He actually talked to Lucius Fox, I think."

"Okay, wrong question," Artemis breathed, "Why did you do it?"

In that second, Wally planted a kiss on her lips with a passion she hadn't seen since the New Year's fiasco. It was returned once and again, a need of flesh and a need for one and another. Electrifying, energizing. The love and passion never dulled between the two, but this time it was beyond just affection, it was conveying something deeper, something so intangible, yet far more concrete than anything they've shared before.

For those moments that felt like ea forever that was never long enough, in the universe there only existed the two of them. Two grains in the sands of time. With the love they shared, they became _diamonds. _A connection of two souls, in spirit, not law, not marriage, not union, just spirit. Was there anything wrong with that?

The stars around them seemed to laugh with glee, letting the snow spark in the way of a cold fire. It seemed the banquet had turned into a campfire, reflecting love and peace of the time of the year, the _most wonderful time of the year_. As they finally stopped, a smile was left behind on both of their lips, both of them breathing deeply, eyes alight with ardour and zeal.

"So, Artemis, did you figure out why yet?" Wally was practically vibrating with excitement, the igloo itself shaking. "Does that answer your question?" A light was still dancing in Artemis' eyes, and she nodded slowly, as if trying to grasp reality once that spark faded.

"Yes it does."

It answered every fight when she wondered if she should have separated, and every time she questioned herself on why she chose to leave behind the life of heroes. She was given a choice, and she passed judgement. Reasons for choosing to leave all boiled down into one word, one single word that left so much unspoken, since it didn't need to be made into words or false promises. Truly where the heart was. No masterpiece was perfect. Nevertheless, this was as flawless as things were going to get.

"So, what caused my excellent and corny romantic gesture?"

"Love, naturally."

Naturally, love was enough.

* * *

_And hearts will be glowing, when loved ones are near..._


	3. All Hail the Fairy Lights

**What You Make of It**

* * *

_"Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!"  
-Charles Dickens_

* * *

**Part 3: All Hail the Fairy Lights**

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_

_Let your heart be light_

_From now on,_

_Our troubles will be out of sight_

The Christmas lights around Bludhaven glittered across the city, Christmas being capable of making even Bludhaven beautiful. Nightwing was crouching uncomfortably watching the docks of Bludhaven and humming the familiar childhood song when his commlink vibrated obnoxiously on his ear. Exasperated at the interruption, he turned on the link. Not prepared to give away his location for nothing, he listened for a voice on the other side. "Hey, Nightwing?"

The voice was incredibly familiar, though it took a full five seconds for Nightwing to react, hissing through the link, "Wally? Why are you calling me? And through the comm. links?" Their last falling out...he thought his complaints costed them their friendship.

Wally's tone was uncharacteristically tentative, "Artemis...she's convinced me on a point. Shouldn't let old friendships die because of arguments, right? Isn't like we haven't had our differences before." Nightwing cackled softly, thinking of the many times Wally said that Artemis 'convinced him', when instead it was her forcing him into something.

"You've got yourself a catch there, can't believe you guys didn't see it coming from the very beginning!" Nightwing remembered his first date with Barbara was following Wally and Artemis on their violently passionate date, blackmail material. It began with a whim and a cackle, and ended in passions and sparks flying, one of the many things he had Wally to thank for. Wally and Dick, an entirely different dynamic duo, they were the best friends, and maybe they still were.

No words were needed, no words were exchanged. They both understood each other, all they needed was a reminder.

Seeing a man walking towards the cargo, Nightwing jumped up the rafters of a nearby undercover area, furrowing his brows at the suspicious activity. The burly man looked about warily, before taking out a handgun and shooting the crates several times. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

It was a crippling sound.

In the heat of action, Nightwing never had the time to think about it. But with those moments when nothing else, no adrenaline rush was coloring his mind, he couldn't ignore the _sound _and the _feeling _of a bullet ripping haphazardly through flesh. 1, 2, 3.

Nightwing was brought out of his reverie by the anxious sound of Wally saying, "Woah, Nightwing? What's up on the other end?" The worry in his voice was evident, and he seemed to be getting quite panicked. Shaking off the disturbing feeling (He should get turbed.) from the sounds of the gunshots, Nightwing laughed lightly into the link, still looking out towards the docks. There seemed to be some activity. _  
_

"Just some twit shooting the boxes to see if there are any stowaways. I'm checking on a shipment of armor-piercing bullets. They've been getting pesky in the Haven, and I don't want them to get around. It'd be a disaster-"

"Extremely heavy on the dis," Wally interrupted, sounding rather annoyed.

Wally was always the optimistic one, whenever disaster stared him in the face, he just looked right back. Robin was supposed to do that too, but Nightwing? He lived in Bludhaven, patrolling there _alone. _Catastrophe was an occupational hazard, even in a city as beautiful on the surface as Bludhaven herself...lights glowing and blinking even in neighborhoods where food was at shortage. That was what drew him to Bludhaven, the hope that coursed through the city even though it was living hell.

_When you die in Bludhaven, _Nightwing thought, _Hell is considered a promotion._

"Do you need any help? Just because I'm retired doesn't mean I won't help my best friend," Wally's rather staticky voice rang over the radio, while Nightwing crawled into a crevice on the boat. It began moving towards...somewhere. Wanting to punch himself, Nightwing thought of Batman's reaction if he knew that Nightwing didn't check where the shipment was headed. Police Academy was not helping his efficiency.

After a moment, Nightwing remembered he was supposed to reply to Wally, and snarled, rather harshly, "No, you don't need to get out. Things are quiet right now. The snow is horrible though, and if you slip and crash into a car, Artemis will never let me hear the end of it. It's just a normal bust, nothing special. So, you didn't just call to ask me about my work, or to make up. You have an ulterior motive. And before you say anything, I used a turbing method called, _logic!"_

Immediately following his words, Nightwing felt a genuine pang of regret. The last months, he shrivelled up into a Grinch whenever he thought about Batman. Bruce (_no, _it was Batman who said that, Bruce Wayne was never so cruel) slowly transformed into the cowl, and the pain of the words, even months later, did not numb even slightly.

Surprisingly, Wally was not offended. In actuality, if Nightwing thought about it, it was never Wally's nature to take offense easily, though he did give it too often. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they held a magnetic attraction as best friends. Their personalities clashed and clicked together into a fitting 4D puzzle no one outside of the tesseract could understand.

"Come on, why do you think I have to have an ulterior motive?" Wally's voice was a mock of a real plead, serving only to try his patience.

Looking out the window of the shipping boat, Nightwing gazed unflinchingly as the lights of a million hues faded away into blurs, a bright torch in the horizon. "Try me," he hissed. Turning his head, he looked towards the direction the boat was going. He needed to find out who it was on the other side of the river...wait, was this ship going to Gotham?

"Okay, okay, okay! Just...Artemis-is-kind-of-unhappy-and-it's-Christmas-so-she-shouldn't-and-I-wanted-to-get-her-something-special-and-can-you-tell-me-about-Crime-Alley?"

Wally's words spilled out quickly, and there was a muffled exclamation of defeat.

It was a distraction from the pressure of trying to avoid Batman while Nightwing would be in Gotham.

As Nightwing sighed, annoyed, he seemed to hear something crackling through the link, something extremely familiar... "Is that... Frosty?" he whispered incredulously. The jolly tunes brought back many memories for the darkly clad vigilante, memories of sitting by the fireplace of 'Stately Wayne Manor' and being playfully revelled in the tales of how wonderful an experience Frosty the Snowman was for every child by a genial Alfred. _  
_

Eventually, he gave in and let the man show him the movie, and it was _magical. _Of course, over the years the magic faded away, but then he was simply wondering why in the world Wally was watching Frosty the Snowman.

_There must have been some magic, _

_In that old silk hat they found._

_For when they placed it on his head, _

_He began to dance around!_

"Yeah..." Wally replied slowly.

"How does Crime Alley possibly relate to a holiday based on _that_? You'd have better luck asking me to get you an imitation of Mr. Freeze's gun. And _no, _I do _not _have a copy of Freeze's gun. Don't even think about asking."

"Why do you think I'm going to ask?" _Because I have the experience, _Nightwing thought. "All I wanted to ask was about how many people there are in Crime Alley, and the overall place. Oh, and the people that Artemis used to know from there, you can do that right? Artemis...she told me she had nothing during the holday season to celebrate, but I'm going to give her one. I _love _her, but I can't do enough for her. This will probably be my big statement. I'm not gonna tell you why I need Crime Alley, though."

"I don't expect you to." Nightwing chuckled, thinking of the fact that he had already pieced together what it would be. After all, in the past, Artemis often confided with Dick Grayson. "It's a magical time of year, right? I always thought Christmas was like that. Even the year _it _happened, because when Christmas passed and the New Year was almost there, something gave me a reason to celebrate again. You're looking for that reason for Artemis, right?"

Dick still remembered the first winter without his parents, all the mingled feelings of grief, anger, and loneliness. Yet the spark of hope that was his most defining characteristic shined out as he waited in the small cell in the JDC, knowing there would be a miracle. Not because it was Christmas, but because at that time of year, people searched within their own hearts for a reason to give...

"How do you know that? Do you have telepathy or something? Because as much as it would feel safer not to think so, I'm pretty sure you have telepathy."

Snickering quietly at Wally's ludicrous idea (it was _Alfred _who had telepathy after all, but he waved away that thought, there was no need to be homesick), Nightwing replied, grinning from Wally's attempt at lightening the atmosphere, "Yeah...I'll have the files over by tomorrow night. Hmm...it's the most wonderful time of the year, that's right, but it isn't exactly because of Christmas itself. After all, it's just a holiday full of toys and bad singing."

The voice from the other side was crackled, but still Nightwing understood every word. "Don't forget the food. Never forget the food."

"Because obviously take-out is such a whelming dinner. And Police Academy's the devil, not going to get too much extravagances this week." After his instructor found out who his guardian was, the good intentions took a 180 degree turn for the worst, and Richard Grayson, being the normal human being that he was, was barred unceremoniously by his lifestyle from doing anything impressive. "Hey, if the extra in extravagance makes the word about overconsumption, can vagance be just normal consumption? What about undervagance?"

Ignoring Nightwing's traditional wordplay, Wally asked, "Before I hang up, could you tell me one thing? Since we are friends and never going to fight ever again?"

Was that a little bit of hesitance and hope in Wally's voice? "You sound stupidly childish, but sure," he said softly through the link. One thing Nightwing could always rely on Wally was the fact that he would never stray away from his morals, no matter how childish he might sound defending them.

"What was the thing that made Christmas magical? I know everything about you, Nightwing, _everything. _Could you cast me a line or something?" Even though the reception was blocked by the mounds of snow, he could hear the whiney pleading in Wally's voice.

"Christmas that year wasn't much to celebrate." Especially since they all came crashing _down, down, down, and down to the ground. _"I never put much on my belief of a guy running around in a red suit," the same red that soaked the ground after they fell, "it was always a religious holiday for the old place." Believing in some all-powerful God didn't do them much good, did it?

Nightwing was perfectly ready to concede that some god-like figure existed. But do something for him? If God was going to do save the world, then why did He create humans?

Call it blasphemy, suffering a crisis of faith.

"Then everything came down...you know where I went next...and I remembered this legend about St. Nicholas, the guy Santa is based on. He gave to the poor and unfortunate, but at the time I thought it was just some wishful thinking, and dismissed the thought," Nightwing muttered bitterly. His breath hitched ever-so-slightly, thinking, since it _really, truly_ was a _miracle. _But not done by any celestial hand, simply a human finger moving slowly to the pitied and empathized. As much as Bruce empathized him, though, it wasn't enough, right?

"Then the wardship was finalized. I always believed it was a Christmas miracle." Until he was thrown out of the house.

"Christmas miracle, huh? While we're making all these miracles happen left and right, have you thought about maybe-well-I-dunno-how's-about how's about trying to make it a full miracle by going back to Gotham?" Wally's speech was swift,, his speedster instincts coming into his voice.

Grimacing at Wally's words, Nightwing snarled rather unnecessarily, _"No."_

Wally made an indistinct sigh through the link, while Nightwing tried to tune him out. "Dick." Wally was pulling out secret identities? Over an unsecure line? What the hell was he thinking? "You're helping me, so let me help you. He's your-dad-and-don't-interrupt-me-because-I-mean-he's-your-dad-in-the-emotional-sense-and-you-aren't-allowed-to-deny-it-and-Jason-isn't-your-replacement-"

"No," Nightwing ground out angrily, teeth clenched, still crouching uncomfortably in the shadows of the ship. Jason Todd was a sore subject, a boy Batman took in just weeks after Dick Grayson was thrown out. There were rumors among those who knew Batman's secret ID that he was going to be the next Robin, though from what correspondence he had from Conner, Batman staunchly denied the claims. Jason did not know anyone in the hero community yet, except for Batman, yet everyone knew _him. _

Nevertheless, Jason was already _adopted. _No matter what Wally said, Bruce had already replaced him. Not just as a partner, but also as a _son. _

Guess the first experiment wasn't worth it. Better erase it from existence, forget it ever existed at all.

"I'm not saying you have to do something. Dick," Wally too a deep breath after using the ID _again, _"It's just that Bruce is the one you want to be proud of you. It could be your own Christmas miracle! Bats was always nicest to you, he was just being overprotective!"

Attempting to tune out Wally's words once again, failing miserably, Nightwing noticed the ship slowing down into a lull. He could see the familiar cityscape of Gotham before him, spanning the horizon, dotted with shining, exquisite, floaty in the darkness of the grimy and filthy city. Like Bludhaven, Gotham held that fine, forbidden beauty, irresistable and amazing. Forbidden not only because of its darkness, yet also because of the fact that it was not his home any longer.

Despite it all, he wanted to go back, so instead of telling Batman about the shipment (and he _despised _talking to the lifeless, soulless cowl), he followed his heart back to his home...

_I'll be home for Christmas,_

_You can plan on me._

_Please have snow and mistletoe,_

_And presents on the tree._

His voice faded into nothing, as he watched the glistening of the silver lanes. Gotham was willing him back home. She was the place that killed _them_, but, _god, _she was so _beautiful. _Bludhaven held his soul and spirit captive, yet Gotham had his heart. There was not a thing he could do about it.

The shipping boat docked, unsteadily bringing itself to a stop. Seeing a group of thugs gathering in a warehouse beside the docks, Nightwing spied the workers unloading the shipment as well. "I'm going in."

"Good luck. Think about it."

Taking a moment of time to think, Nightwing sighed to the link. "I will." He began radio silence, but he owed Wally at the very least a thought.

Dodging crates, Nightwing made a climb for the roof of the boat. Sneaking past guards and other assorted twits, he grappled to the warehouse, landing in another uncomfortable crouch. "Bullseye," he muttered, eyes aflame with that _passion _of _flight. _Maybe it was the lights flickering on and off in the skyline of Gotham, maybe it was returning home to the nest, and maybe it was the feeling that humans, anyone, really, could begin _miracles, _that reminder without the memory of the undoing of that miracle...

Unprofessionally, without a doubt, he cackled into the night air, the sound echoing through the cavernous warehouse as he backflipped off the building casually.

The scene inside was undoubtedly unexpected, with thugs upon thugs standing guard around crates being transported to the warehouse. The buyer? Two-Face, another classic of Gotham streets. The seller? Blockbuster, Nightwing still remembered meeting his brother at Cadmus...good times. Taking a second to scrutinize the gang-leaders all staring at him unabashedly, Nightwing shrugged slightly, before quipping, "I know, party-crashers, they're as annoying as hell."

"Who's this guy?" Two-Face demanded harshly of Blockbuster.

Blockbuster growled, voice feral and eyes wild, "This is Nightwing, a pesky little problem we've been having in the Haven." Why did Bludhaven and Gotham always get the insane villains? With all the majesty and beauty, so entrancing and alluring...maybe only the insane would dare stay there.

They were the femme fatales of cities.

Flipping into action, Nightwing threw a smoke pellet into the ground and jumped Desmond. Taking a short moment to revel in the fact that he finally got the chance to get some payback at the behemoth, Nightwing was then stumped for a moment. How was he supposed to incapacitate Blockbuster? Nothing he had in his arsenal was strong enough. The last close-up encounter with someone on the Blockbuster Serum ended up levelling an entire building.

He was in Gotham now, and any damage would immediately alert Batman of his presence. He did _not _have to deal with that. "If I get out fast enough," Nightwing reminded himself, "he won't care to come."

"Knockout gas?" he asked himself, "Never tried that yet. Huh, that would be so much cleaner."

Jamming a pellet of knockout gas straight into Blockbuster's face, Nightwing could see him slowing down. Taking half a dose and throwing it at the man again, the man finally fell over. There was definitely a small sense of satisfaction when Nightwing quickly threw the magnetic cuffs on him.

Turning to the other thugs, Nightwing dodged bullet after bullet in practiced actions. Leaping onto Two-Face after tearing through his 'hired help', Nightwing gave him a vengeance filled sock in the face before pinning the criminal to the wall and slapping on cuffs.

"Now for the uglies," he muttered to himself. There were approximately thirty henchmen, still highly disoriented from the smoke pellets, glaring at Nightwing. At once, at least five of them ran at him at full speed, having Nightwing only needing to grapple into the air and watch them fall.

"You should go on some team-bonding vacations, does wonders for the teamwork!" Nightwing called over from the rafters. Hastily reaching the lights, he turned them off, put on night vision goggles from his utility belt, and let out a full cackle into the musty air of the warehouse. The henchmen were already unsure of what to do, after their leaders and 'teammates' were easily taken out.

Taking out his escrima sticks from a holster on his leg, Nightwing dived into the fray, fighting systematically, practiced, instinctively. There was no need to think, no need to try to plan out a strategy.

He was in his element, nothing was taking it away.

Knocking down one after another of henchmen and dodging bullet after badly fired bullet, Nightwing finally looked around the warehouse. The entirely full of people warehouse.

"Reinforcements, yippee," he murmured, whipping out his escrimas once again, and tearing into the fight. Through a firestorm of bullets, he managed to get out unscathed, and the ammo in the unprepared guns of the opponent seemed to be running out. There were, what, five people left? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a _kid_ reload his gun before pointing it again. It was still a _kid_ (just like himself), teenager, stay-at-school kind of person,and he could never get over the fact that while so many people were celebrating, others were falling over the tightrope to the other side of the law-

"Shit." A burning pain in the same shoulder where Joker shot him broke him out of his reverie while the kid at the other side of the barrel held the smoking weapon, frozen in shock. Not knowing he was falling until he hit the ground, his eyes didn't leave the bloodstained fingers where he touched his uniform. "Armor-piercing bullets."

It hurt, it hurt, and it hurt, bringing up memories unwanted and recollections best left untouched (story of his life). How did he forget something so simple? How could be let emotion and sentiment cloud his efficiency. He _failed _and maybe his demons were right when the said that he wasn't worth it.

A sight for sore eyes, something familiar, foreboding, though somehow infinitely comforting in his hour of need, Nightwing's hazy gaze could only recognize a figure draped in black from head to toe, a _demon, _a _bat. _

Nothing seemed to make sense as the warmth seeped from his body and he looked out of the warehouse's window into the night sky, a sky filled with lights and beacons, a sky filled with lighthouses, _stars_. "Heh," his hoarse voice choked out as blood filled his mouth, "Nature's fairy lights, all hail those that burn brightest in the darkest of nights." The figure in black paused, and he almost thought he saw _worry_ (emotion, and_ so much more_, he always knew how to see) behind an oh-so-familiar cowl.

Then, the fairy lights, they...disappeared.

* * *

_I'll be home for Christmas..._


	4. And Auld Lang Syne

**What You Make Of It**

* * *

_"Now, the essence, the very spirit of Christmas is that we first make believe a thing is so, and lo, it presently turns out to be so."  
-Stephen Leacock_

* * *

**Part 4: And Auld Lang Syne**

The Batman persona was always quite adept at masking emotions and, in essence, making them disappear. The deceit of the cowl was capable of fooling even the greatest of detectives, that is to say, Batman himself, who often held the erroneous belief that he could compartmentalize all emotion once he wore the cowl. Numbness was in fact the best word to describe it, the affliction that came along with a mask and a thirst for justice.

When the sound of the gun rang through the warehouse and his _former _partner fell to the ground, shell-shocked, the only emotion that registered, among the shock, fear, terror, and relief, was rage.

Fury colored his lenses a vivid shade of bloodstained crimson, while all the forces in the world could not stop the path of Batman, the Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader, and someone who was very, very angry indeed, holiday season be damned.

As he finally slowed, with hordes of cuffed and unconscious criminals scattered across the warehouse, he finally turned his attention to shallowly breathing boy who grew into a man without him. "Nightwing." The word felt alien on his lips as he rushed to the vigilante of Bludhaven, somehow on the wrong side of the river. Blockbuster, of course.

Deftly wrapping the gauze around the wound, Batman noticed the armor ripped apart on the shoulder where the bullet hit. "Armor-piercing bullet." The lung was punctured and blood sprayed out of Nightwing's mouth as his eyes opened briefly and he coughed forcefully.

One bullet shouldn't have knocked out Nightwing, even one piercing the lung. He had survived worse conscious, so why _wasn't he awake?_

Panic did not suit the Batman, and as the Batmobile roared into life, he sped through Gotham with the air of a demon. Emotion came crashing out like a dam breaking. His _son _(maybe that was the one thing he could never deny) lay _bleeding out in the backseat of his car. _Alfred's words about reuniting with him never meant...how the hell did he let Nightwing ever fly? He was Batman! He should have been able to stop it all, just like he should have been able to stop Joker from getting that shot...

The world around him blurred into a clumsy pastel of neon lights. Batman knew why Nightwing was in Gotham.

It was a foolish notion the boy had from early on, the notion that, somehow, at Christmastime, Gotham was _beautiful. _It was that sentimentality that would almost get him killed time and again. But not this time...

And it was that thought that kept Batman focused all to the Batcave, and as Alfred snapped on his surgical gloves, it was that thought that kept him still, silent, and waiting for the vigilante on the operating table to finally wake up.

In a manner characteristic of Batman, it was that thought that blocked all emotions, when emotions proved so futile and so useless on the field, and made the first question when Nightwing woke up, this. "What the hell were you doing in Gotham?"

"Hey, Bats," the voice was weak, attempting at humor, and served only to put more fuel on the fire ranging in the Dark Knight's chest. It was not Bruce Wayne he was talking to, Bruce Wayne became nothing but a mask when his Robin that he shared the world outside of the mask...disappeared. "Had a clue on Blockbuster smuggling weapons. Sorry to trespass on your property."

Was that how Nightwing thought of it all? Property? It wasn't as petty as that, was it? Bruce was sure that the reason for the fights was something bigger than that...

Noticing that nothing was going to be said further, Nightwing asked, "So, what happened? Why am I back in the Batcave?" As confident as he sounded, Batman could hear it was mostly bravado.

"You were distracted. Emotionally compromised. You were inefficient in taking care of the henchmen, and you let yourself show emotion on the field," Batman ground out. Nightwing scowled, ready to fight back, when Alfred turned away from the medical equipment. "In essence," Alfred interrupted, "Master Dick , you were shot. It was in the shoulder, it punctured a lung, and from your track record, I believe you will only stay in bed for a week no matter what I instruct you. Perhaps I will attempt to keep you in nonetheless."

Thankful for Alfred preventing another argument, Batman removed the cowl. "Why were you unconscious immediately after being shot? I trained you with more pain tolerance." As much as he looked unconcern, concern was the only reason for Bruce to ask the question. He had emotion, it was just...showing it that was..._difficult. _

"Among other things," Dick muttered bitterly, sitting up.

"Well, Master Dick, I believe you should answer Master Bruce's question with considerably less sass. After all, we are simply concerned about your health," Alfred said carefully.

"I was just tired, okay? I know, I know, inefficient, distracted, emotionally compromised. We're not all completely bats, Bruce! We can't all be perfect. You know, I was considering coming here for Christmas before, but if you're just going to be an ass, I guess there's no point."

"Master Richard, might I remind you that, however angry you may be at Master Bruce, you may not swear in this household as long as I live." As usual, Alfred's glare was piercing. "I shall be upstairs preparing food. You young masters...play nice." Alfred's brisk footfalls quickly faded away as he walked out with a quietly smug demeanor that only Alfred Pennyworth could pull off without incurring the wrath of the victim.

As Alfred left the cave, Dick's nostrils flared, and he looked down at his fingers, flexing them and doing all he could to ignore the person in front of him. The silence wore on for ten minutes, before he said, "We can't disobey Alfred."

Dick pursed his lips. "You're right on that one. He won't send cookies to my apartment."

Deciding to ask a question gnawing his mind for ages, Bruce said, with the air of an interrogator, "Why did you never call the Manor? That first two months, you completely disappeared. Alfred was worried sick. We had an argument, but why did you not even _tell _us you were still alive?"

"An argument? That's all you call it?" Dick scoffed, scowling. "You didn't think I was good enough, you took _Robin _away from me, and you _kicked me out of Gotham_. It was my home, and for some reason you had the right to take it. That's not just an argument!"

"What do you want now? Apologies? I thought you grew up. I am an adult, _adults_ don't need comfort and apologies."

"No, no, _no. _Actual, healthy adults do apologize once in a while, but you're _goddamn Batman _and you _never _make mistakes, even when a mistake is staring you right in the face in black and blue spandex and mocking you sarcastically! Because Batman is judge, jury, and executioner, omniscient with the right to make everyone's decisions for them...Is it fun to play God?" Desolate, Nightwing stared down at his gloved fingers, clenching his fists. _Anger. _

"Everything was done to keep you safe." The monotone voice used was strictly for under the cowl, but ever since things began to go sour with Dick, it became the default setting.

A guffaw escaped the teen sitting on the bed. In a sing-song voice, he said, "Everything was done to keep me _safe! _Wow, Bats, that worked out _really, really _well. I mean, I feel as safe as a cop in Gotham-"

"The fact that you are enrolled in Police Academy has not escaped me."

Nightwing enrolling in Police Academy was not a surprise to Batman. He loved to fight crime, and always itched to get out of his civilian persona and use his strength for something. But _why did he have to do it in the most dangerous way possible?_ Once, just days ago, when Bruce actually voiced the question, Alfred replied with a simple, "Like father, like son."

"Because that was _exactly_ what _we were fucking talking about." _Running a hand through his hair, Dick muttered, "Always, ever since I turned sixteen, you treat me less like a partner and more like a...like a pet monkey with a low IQ and a penchant for jumping off cliffs without parachutes! What changed, what changed to make me nothing but a kid playing hero?"

"Everything was always done to keep you _safe." _It was Bruce's only priority, to see that his _former _partner wouldn't come into harm's way. The years before, he had been so blinded by the light being brought into his life, that he didn't see the darkness invading Dick's. Batman would never doubt himself, but this was _Bruce Wayne_, who made a choice based upon emotion and sentiment. Seeing Nightwing work in Bludhaven had planted a seed of doubt.

A seed, however, that wasn't enough.

"Really," Dick laughed, exasperated and disbelieving, "Really? That's all. Batman doesn't care about his _sidekick_, he's goddamn Batman!" The shout echoed through the Batcave, framed by the sound of dripping water and deep breaths.

No one knew what to say, the scars of the past had yet to fade away. Was there any way to mend the things of the past? What had been broken?

"You know," the former Robin said, slipping easily into the role of the talkative one, talking with wistful longing and complacency, "There was a time when we were the Dynamic Duo, always, and we had an instant connection that no one else ever understood. But it passed really fast, if you think about it, it just flew on by, faster than the eye could see. We used to be unstoppable, but times changed, and...I guess it doesn't work that way anymore, huh? But could you tell me, could you tell me what was it that changed everything?"

It seemed to all flash before his eyes, the day he first saw the Flying Graysons fly, the day he finally obtained wardship of Richard Grayson, and the day Robin flew for the first time. All memories were of pride mingled with loss and regret.

After all, Bruce Wayne was a life lived so very soaked in regret...

"You grew up, and no longer needed coddling. I was your mentor. Not your father, you made that very clear on the day the wardship was finalized."

"Oh, _oh._" Realization gleamed in Dick Grayson's eyes. _Remorse linked with amusement_. "You based every single behavior on a nine-year old kid who was still mourning? Somehow I can't believe that, o great and powerful World's Greatest Detective? But, of course, I should know better than _anyone, _maybe except Alfred, how you can't seem to even comprehend the _possibility _of emotion."

Bruce glared darkly. "I was never supposed to act like a father. You were going to leave one day, I was just-"

"Speeding up the process?" Incredulously and bitterly, he muttered, "God, your thought processes are _really, really _messed up. You really thought that I would leave. You thought...I would abandon this home? It _used _to be my home, and it used to be the best place in the world for me. John Grayson will always be my dad, but you're _Bruce_, and as much as he's my tati, he's not _you_. Is it really that bad to have another father? Loving _both _fathers shouldn't be a _sin_, should it?"

Trying to figure out if the words were genuine, what the meaning behind them was, Bruce was silent, as characteristic, face only showing a sliver of emotion. But Dick's face brightened all the same, able to detect the thoughts behind the mask of emotionless contemplation.

"Hamlet's codpiece!" he exclaimed, full of rather self-deprecating humor, "We really are horrible at emotions, aren't we? It took us _ages_ just to get to here, and you still aren't really believing that I'm actually telling the truth."_  
_

At the joke, the type that Batman had not heard from his former protege in years, Bruce Wayne felt soaked with relief. Taking a chance, he asked, at last, "If you still consider the Manor your home, I, and Alfred too, still consider you a part of this household. How would you like to...spend the next few days here? For medical purposes, of course."

"Of course, I would love to stay!" Dick's eyes practically glowed. "For medical purposes, of course." He added with a smirk, before the conversation was interrupted with the sound of the elevator.

Turning his head, Dick asked, "Who could that be?" Alfred usually took longer in preparing the 'necessary sustenance for an injured body'.

Immediately afterwards, a tuft of red hair peeked out from the elevator, before it became a fully functioning human being, Jason. "Who the fuck is this?" Jason yelled, hand quickly going to the switchblade taped to the boy's left leg. The boy backed up to the cave wall, glaring at Nightwing with deep suspicion. When Bruce thought about it, the suspicion would prove useful while battling the scum of Gotham. It took much to get Dick to understand not to trust just anyone on the street. _But wasn't that what you did, taking Jason in? _A cocky voice in Bruce's head surfaced. _  
_

Quickly, Bruce walked up to the twelve-year old, hand thrust out, growling, "Give me the knife. You are not allowed to have weapons in the cave."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Jason muttered as he removed the knife carelessly from the tape, "But first you tell me who this hell this weirdo is!" The demand was clear in his voice, and Dick responded accordingly.

"Dick Grayson, nice to meet you," Dick called over, taking it all into stride, "You must be Jason Todd."

"Better than your name, _Dickie-Bird_." Jason calmed slightly, muttering, "And you must be Brucie's little golden boy. He never stops talkin' bout you and how I'll _never _measure up to your greatness. That makes you a real, real Dick."

"He's a charmer. They're gonna love him at the charity balls, Bruce," he smirked, while Jason recoiled in horror.

"Whaddya mean by charity balls? I'm not going to a _fucking ball_." Jason's fear was even greater than the night he was caught stealing tires from the Batmobile, his eyes were saucepans and he seemed to be _begging _not to have to go to a charity ball.

"Deal with it," Bruce replied, but for once, with a hint of a smile on his face. He turned to look at the Batcomputer, thinking for a moment on whether or not he should return to work, before he shrugged. Maybe, for one night, work wouldn't be on the forefront of his mind. Maybe for one night...he would relax, and enjoy what the world offered him, even after he so carelessly casted it away.

Jason and Dick soon went into a deep discussion about the number of times Batman used the bat- prefix, while Alfred came down with platters of snacks, seeing the two getting along perfectly, despite a few of Jason's ill-placed insults. _Of course, _the voice muttered, _you knew they would. Dick can charm a sandwich off of a starving man, that's how he got to you. __  
_

"Hey, Jay-"

"You giving me a nickname? Goddammit, don't give me a nickname!"

"Don't try to resist, no one can resist a good nickname."

"Fuck you."

"Enough people want to, just ask Zee."

"Shut up, Golden Boy."

"Anyways, Jay-"

"I told you not to give me a fucking nickname!"

"Master Jason? Do I have to wash that mouth with soap?"

"Don't worry, he's just teasing, aren't you, Jaybird?"

"Yeah...sure I am."

"Continuing on from when you so rudely interrupted me, Jay, you're from Crime Alley, right?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'll take that as a yes. Well, I have a good friend who wants to do something in Crime Alley, but he's likely to be mauled-"

"Damn, I wish I could do that!"

"Master Jason...there are no third strikes."

"He's likely to be mauled by everyone there for even the _thought _of offering charity. So then, I was thinking, if you would go meet him and help him out, I would be able to convince Bruce to give you some leniency..."

"Hell..._yes._ I need my knives. You guys get batarangs, and before I'm Robin, I need my own weapons."

"Bruce training you to be Robin?"

"Anything against that?"

"Nah, that's fine. By the power vested in me, I give you my blessing in the pursuit of the Robin mantle!"

"Drama queen."

"I liked Golden Boy better."

"Who's your friend?"

"Wallace West. He's a redhead with a motormouth. If you see him getting beaten up, please intervene."

"Why don't you go yourself?"

"He'll need someone really familiar with the place, and I don't want to hurt his overconfidence."

"His overconfidence. Am I hearing you correctly?"

"What can I say? I'm eccentric."

"That's for sure."

The conversation between the two boys seemed to fade, and Bruce Wayne turned away from the sight of his older...son and his younger becoming fast acquaintances. If Bruce reflected, he realized, over the years, he constantly alienated the people around him, who cared for him. The feeling of family within was always warped from the day that his parents fell to the ground in the rain and gunshots. It was healed, just the slightest, when the little circus boy joined his life, but marred once again when he left.

Now, that priceless sense of family, the priceless sense of completion, despite all the cracks and broken things, was finished. This holiday season, the sense of happiness that came along with it, was _real, true. _Their makeshift group felt like a family, and, for once, despite the imperfections, Batman had _nothing _to criticize.

* * *

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?_

* * *

No, they should not.


	5. A Crisis of Faith

**What You Make of It**

* * *

_"Love, friendship, and family, all what you make of it. Faith in that is faith enough for me."  
-Bobby Antler in Winter_

* * *

**Epilogue: A Crisis of Faith**

Christmas always filled Father Luka Markov with a strange sense of grief. Though Christmas was a celebration of the birth of Christ, life and the people around him made it a time for family, and a time for unity. On Christmas Eve, in Gotham, there was no praying, no faith. Faith and belief did not work in Gotham. Why, then, did he insist on staying in the city? All men and woman there sinned, yet the hope of redemption was always ever-present. Leaving Gotham was a sign of defeat, but Markov had his hope, his hope was everything to him.

But that Christmas, while Father Markov prayed prayed for a year of peace in his city, he felt the distinct emptiness of his life in his city. There were no kindred souls in the slums of Gotham, only those who threw rocks into the stained glass windows, and vandalized the building. The church was still beautiful, with colored windows letting in the moonlight, and rather crumbled marble. Still, even with the faded pictures and the gilded ornaments, the building felt empty.

With the emptiness, suddenly, someone knocked on the door of the decrepit door. It was a young man, of seventeen or eighteen years, smiling thinly at the peeling paint of the wooden statue of Virgin Mary. "May I come in?"

"Of course, all are welcome at this time and season," Markov replied, "Welcome to this humble church, what brings you here on this auspicious night? The church usually remains empty most days of the year, I have not seen you before."

"When I first came to Gotham, I, more or less, suffered a crisis of faith. I saw too many of the city's horrors to see its beauty...and I abandoned a faith that my parents taught me. Tonight, I feel something in the air, and I felt...compelled to come here, I had something to believe in, finally." He kicked at the ground without much enthusiasm, watching his breath as it drifted in the air. Markov did not resume his praying, and began sweeping the floor.

"How did you meet this crisis of faith?" Markov asked politely, looking up to meet the stranger's eyes.

The eyes stared back, blue as the lakes and seas he left behind to put his faith into the godless city. "Might sound silly, but it was a few years ago, back when I was eight." He shrugged. Markov nodded in understanding. In youth, belief was such a fickle thing to hold on to. Though old, Luka could remember the times in youth when he strayed from the path he chose.

"That is a very early time to begin doubting faith, but it is a common challenge, to keep faith in this city full of darkness and horrors. I was a victim to it myself. But you have returned to the house of God, and He is merciful."

The stranger nodded. "He is. And his year, I finally have a reason to celebrate. I...I'll be leaving now. There's family to get back to. Bruce and Jason aren't overly religious, but...it's Christmas Eve, a time to be with family, all the family I have left. Have a merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year too, I guess. You'll probably be seeing me here more. It's always time to honor family tradition, after all...don't lose hope in Gotham. It was fading from your eyes."

"It was, but I think I've found it again, the hope that the city will one day redeem itself against the sins of the past. I was losing it, call it my own crisis of faith, but I think I remember the way back. It's a fool's hope."

Smirking, he replied, "But it's a hope anyways. And sometimes, hope is all we have." Staring to the stars, he began to sing as he left the church.

_I'll be home for Christmas,_

_You can plan on me._

_Please have snow and mistletoe,_

_And presents on the tree._

_Christmas Eve will find me,_

_Where the love light gleams._

_I'll be home for Christmas,_

_If only in my dreams._

"That it is," Father Markov muttered to himself, smiling, once the stranger left the church. Though he was never one to criticize youth, considering how hypocritical that would be, he always held a distinct belief that youth was a time not for deep thought.

He was just proven wrong.

As the night fell and the new day came, Luka Markov felt refreshed, revitalized. Gotham was a twisted, warped, and misunderstood little thing, stained with blood, but it was his home. To know that people out there still held hope in their hearts, to know that people had something to celebrate in the dark time of year, it was the best gift he could have received. Nothing material sent from his brothers and sisters oceans away, nothing material in the world could replace that one, priceless thing.

Father Markov went to bed that Christmas Eve with faith, restored.

* * *

_If only in my dreams..._

* * *

**AN/Things to Consider:**

**1. Though this was supposed to be finished by Christmas, I procrastinated, and sorry to all those who had to wait  
2. I have never been to a catholic church before, so forgive the inaccuracies in description. I guessed, to tell the truth.  
3. Nightwing is a lapsed catholic who did not believe in a merciful god, until...now, because I said so (not lapsed anymore, I guess), Artemis is an atheist, because of course she is. Wally is a good old all-american christian. M'gann is a buddhist. Superboy is agnostic. Kaldur is...some Atlantean temple religion.  
4. Review, and please tell me whether or not Father Markov was an obnoxious OC.  
5. No, Invasion does _not _count in this story.  
6. Please, please, please, please review? Pretty please with a Jason Todd on top?**


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